The Looking Glass
by asheniel
Summary: "The night that he died, the stars combusted and rained their celestial glitter upon the looking glass..." Todd and Lance have a strange ol' conversation. Rated for drug use, language, and some symbolism and obscurity.


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Authors Notes – Hey! Well, recently I've been dying to write stuff, but for some odd reason, I couldn't think of anything to write about. (Usually it's the other way around) And so, this here is the product of some desperate brainstorming. It took a hell of a long time to write, too, even though it's so short, and I have no idea why. It turned out a lot better than I thought it would, though…I'll let you decide, though. It's from Todd's point of view and he's talking about Lance, and it probably doesn't make very much sense. Um…whatever. Hope you like, and review.

"The Looking Glass"

By NHSpartanGal14

The night that he died, the stars combusted once again and rained their celestial glitter upon the looking glass. I stared at my reflection, and through splotches and slivers of celibacy, everything appeared to be black. I stared further, and a fuzzy star emerged, then another. They glowed weakly within a screen of unhallowed gloom, and as the hours passed, they combusted as well. They combusted, then rained their celestial glitter upon the looking glass. They combusted, they rained, and he died. 

Twisted veins battled for illusory love among the bottomless hate; thick hot flesh greedily slurped up counterfeit virtues in hopes of something better. Perspiration adhered to my limbs and though I was a sacrilegious bastard, the stars continued to combust and rain their celestial glitter upon the looking glass on the night that he died.

The night that he died was a sweetness-choked hell-evoked fairytale for the stars and me. They spelled it 'a-c-i-d,' but I pronounced it 'infatuation.' They called them, 'demonic corruptions of Satan,' but I redefined them, 'virginal crystals of God.' Then he died and the stars combusted (millions and millions of them!) and the sky was bare and black once again.

On the night that he died, he came to me called them little fucks. They lie, he insisted, they make you believe them, but all they do is _lie_. I hugged the scarred looking glass to my chest and shook my head; I couldn't look at him on the night that he died because his eyes burned into my skull and made the stars fade away. I'm going to let them know that they're not as righteous as they think they are, he declared on the night that he died. 

I laughed and said, they can't hear you. They don't have ears. Hell, they're not even fuckin' alive. He ignored me and replied that he was going to make them stop. 

Tell that to the stars, I gestured to the blackened looking glass. The stars won't stop combusting just for you. They can't. You can't just make them _stop_. The world don't work that way…the celestials don't work that way.

A century away, a star combusted and he started to cry. They have to, he wept on the night that he died, they _have_ to because it's just not fair that they can empower us like this. They're going to kill us, you know. 

I shrugged, even though I could feel his eyes burning painfully into the side of my head. After a minute, I winced and sought after the looking glass. I don't care, I said scornfully as my eyes started to tear up, I don't care if they kill me. Fuck them. I hate them. I don't care.

He stared at me for a long time and my head started to throb. Yes you do, he said angrily, you care. You don't hate them. You _need_ them, you little bastard. You're just like everyone else…you _need_ them to survive. 

That's not true! I screamed on the night that he died. I hate them! I hate them! I don't need them! I don't need _anything_! 

A star combusted and he caught it before it could rain its celestial glitter upon the looking glass. Then he crushed it, and he crushed the looking glass too. The broken shards are still strewn about like flakes of the Deus among a blood-stained desert. Don't ever tell me you don't need anything, he hissed, and got to his feet. I'm going to make them kill me. I want the world to know that they aren't as fuckin' righteous as they think they are. 

He started to walk away, crystalline thorns crunching beneath his feet. 

But why? I called after his irreverent being. What difference does it make? You know they don't care…they can't even _hear_ you!

He didn't reply. 

The night that he died, a million stars combusted and rained their celestial glitter upon the looking glass. But the looking glass is broken now. And so are the stars. 

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End of Story 


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